I first saw David* sitting on a curb, his frame outlined against the Suchiate River in the distance. The Suchiate separates Mexico from Guatemala, a natural border turned political. To the right of us stood the Rodolfo Robles bridge, connecting the two countries. Neither the river nor the bridge could give me an adequate answer as to why I was standing in a Customs and Immigration office surrounded by over a thousand migrants.
I was in Ciudad Hidalgo, a city with a population of about 15,000 on Mexico’s southern border. I work for one of MCC’s partner organizations, International Service for Peace (SIPAZ by its initials in Spanish). SIPAZ sent me to Ciudad Hidalgo to see what the conditions were like on the southern border, where thousands of migrants had come, most of them from Honduras, Guatemala, and El Salvador, for the promise of a one-year humanitarian visa Mexico announced earlier this year and then scaled back significantly two weeks later.
Photo: Kiernan Wright
Like the majority of the people around us, David was from Honduras. The factory where he, his father, and brother worked had closed, which David attributed to policies recently enacted by the current administration. After searching for employment for months with no success, David and his family decided that David would travel to the United States in search of work. His mother did not want him to leave, but ultimately sent him with her blessing.
Now that his family knows he’s made it to Mexico and is in the process of getting a humanitarian visa, David told me, that his family is much less anxious about him. If he gets the visa, he will be authorized to travel and work in Mexico. He’s not sure if he will find work in Mexico or continue on to the United States, but he knows that he is here to support his family.
Photo: Kiernan Wright
I was initially hesitant to write about David. Under international law, David does not qualify as a refugee—he did not flee his home country due to fear of persecution for reasons of race, religion, nationality, political opinion, or membership in a particular social group. David migrated for economic reasons: he, like thousands of people across Latin America, has left a country where the economic and political reality makes providing for his family almost impossible. He chose to seek a living for himself and his family elsewhere. For those of us watching from relative economic security, David’s story might seem mundane, maybe unnecessary.
The stories of people we define as refugees and asylum seekers often appear more compelling, or even more legitimate, than those who choose to leave their homes for economic reasons. This is partially due to the way the international legal system works: in order to be granted refugee status, or asylum, applicants must first prove that they have been persecuted, or fear being persecuted. When applying for asylum in the U.S. one must provide a personal testimony and corroborating evidence, which could include newspaper articles, doctors’ notes, or evidence of threats.
Photo: Kiernan Wright
But there, on the banks of the Suchiate River, I wondered: as Mennonites, as Christians, should we allow the bounds of our love and compassion to be determined by international law, or are we called to a more radical form of acceptance? Should David be prohibited from laboring in the US because of where he was born? For those of us who are Mennonites of European descent, many of our families came to the United States and Canada, and later Mexico and South America, seeking better conditions. Were they more worthy than David?
In the end, Mexico’s humanitarian visa program was a victim of its own success. It ended a week after my visit Tapachula, on the 1st of February. During the 18 days it was in effect, over 13,000 migrants received temporary humanitarian visas, allowing them to work and travel within Mexico.
The National Migration Institute (INM) did not have the capacity to register all applicants—people were waiting in lines up to 5 days just to begin the application process. Some analysts also point to the implications of such a visa program, saying that the policy was walked back after Mexico’s administration realized the true number of Central Americans wishing to leave their countries and enter Mexico.
Humanitarian visas are still granted, but not to the extent to which they were from January 18 to February 1. For people like David, this means that there is little hope to be able to travel or work in Mexico with authorization. This puts many migrants in an even more vulnerable situation, and too often leads to an increase in human trafficking and extortion of migrants.
But neither David or I knew any of this at the time. The sun rose higher in the sky and the pocket of shade we were standing in shrank to a sliver. Eventually, we said goodbye and parted ways—me to my home, and David to continue waiting for whatever came next.
* not his real name
Kiernan Wright works for MCC as the Peace Service and Community Accompaniment Worker based in San Cristóbal de las Casas, Mexico.